If This was a Movie
by aria.dorothea
Summary: "Now, this was the part when Will was supposed to come back to me. This was the part when he was supposed to knock on my door twice, the second knock softer than the first. This wasn't the part where I would pace in front of the door, beads of sweat forming on my temples." AU.


if this was a movie

_.itwam._

"_A person who truly loves you will never let you go no matter how hard the situation is."__  
__-author unknown_

_.itwam._

Now this was the part when Will was supposed to come back to me. This was the part when he was supposed to knock on my door twice, the second knock softer than the first. This wasn't the part where I would pace in front of the door, beads of sweat forming on my temples.

I wish I could take it all back, every cruel word, every glare, every argument. But it was too late. That was the truth. A simple apology could never make up for words that were lashed out in anger and frustration.

I was always the brash one, from when we first entered a relationship to now. I briefly remember the first glance I threw at Will. In the beginning, I had assumed he was just another one of the initiates, one that would perhaps fail, one with a crease between his eyebrows and shaggy blond hair that constantly fell in front of his eyes. It never occurred to me this would be the boy that lit me on fire, the boy who understood every little detail about me, the boy who had drugged me and always left me wanting more.

I had always found it odd, why he didn't just cut it. But I never brought it up, something that was highly unlike a facet of my character.

Tris always teased me about it, how if I had a question, I would ask, without it going through my brain. I suppose it's a lasting effect of growing up in Candor, for we were taught to speak our minds even if it potentially hurt others.

Glancing at the clock that hung overhead the door, my heart quickened at the sight of the hour hand quickly approaching 9 PM. I began to hear the pitter-patter of rain.

Will and I made a deal.

If we had a fight, and we went without any contact with each other for 3 days, ending on 9 PM on the third day, then it was the other person's decision to break it off. Today was the third day, and it was 8:54 PM.

My heart stopped. It pounded against my ribcage,

8:55 PM.

Tris, my roommate, was out with her boyfriend, his name was—what was it again? Four? Three? So I couldn't find her and tell her all about my relationship issues. I wish I could though, a girl who's going through a perhaps-breakup deserves ice cream and her bestie.

8:56 PM. I refuse to believe this is Will's way of breaking it off with me. He isn't that type of guy. I hold onto the desperate threads of hope, praying and willing for this all to be a cruel joke and Will is rushing up the gravel path, preparing to knock on the front door at any moment.

8:58 PM. I yank out my phone from the back pocket of my too-tight skinny jeans. I furiously click the 'refresh' button at the notification center. All I see is one missed call from Tris. My palms begin to sweat.

My legs suddenly feel too tired and sore to support my weight, so I collapse unceremoniously against the hard wooden floor. The sharp contact jolts through my tailbone, the neurons there furiously connecting through me to inform my brain of what just occurred. I want to roll my eyes.

8:59 PM. I try to convince myself that Will just needs more time to think, and that this isn't the end of our two-year relationship.

9:00 PM. My heart pounds against my ribcage furiously. My eyes begin to blink furiously, seemingly all of their own accord.

My limbs feel heavy and uncoordinated. I sit like that for a few moments that feel like hours, before mustering up the strength to check my phone one more time.

9:03 PM. I check the notification center, my eyes darting across the screen.

No notifications except for another missed call from Tris.

Tears begin to trickle down. If this was a movie, this would be the part when Will would run up the gravel path, before banging on the front door in an extremely dramatic fashion, getting soaked in the spring rain.

If this was a movie, I would yank open the door. I would stare disbelievingly at his face, searching for all the signs he missed me. If this was a movie, I would throw my arms around him, and inhale in the scent of _Will, _spring rain, men's cologne, and a faint scent of pine. If this was a movie, he would kiss me, before whispering over and over again, "I love you." If this was a movie, he'd be here by now.

But this isn't a movie.


End file.
